


neglected learning

by Anonymous



Series: teacher!steve [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugs, Extremely Underage, Grooming, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Pedophilia, Power Imbalance, Spanking, Statutory Rape, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: i'm kind of letting the tags speak for themselves on this one. title from a quote by euripedes:"Who so neglects learning in his youth loses the past and is dead to the future."please heed the tags. this is fiction, and i do not condone anything contained herein. please use the back arrow if this is not for you. take care of yourself, and know that i will be deleting any comments that do not honor the fact that this is afictionalstory. thank you in advance.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: teacher!steve [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210130
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82
Collections: Anonymous, SteveTony Acheronian Bingo 2021





	neglected learning

**Author's Note:**

> i'm kind of letting the tags speak for themselves on this one. title from a quote by euripedes:
> 
> _"Who so neglects learning in his youth loses the past and is dead to the future."_
> 
> please heed the tags. this is fiction, and i do not condone anything contained herein. please use the back arrow if this is not for you. take care of yourself, and know that i will be deleting any comments that do not honor the fact that this is a _fictional_ story. thank you in advance.

There's a reason Mr. Steve Rogers, art teacher extraordinaire, left the junior high building to take a position at the high school when the ninth graders moved up. The reconfiguration had been a bitch to deal with, but in the end it might have saved him his job. With all the students over fourteen, he was less inclined to… well, he was less inclined. Over the years, he had worked his way up to teaching mostly AP Art, AP Art History, and a few sections of Drawing 2 and 3, with the odd Drawing 1 when Coulson needed it. Even that class was usually populated by juniors and seniors that Sam had hand-picked because they could use Steve's strong, quiet support to help them graduate.

So yes, the move to high school might have saved him his job. Might have, if not for Tony Stark.

It's not that Tony is a bad student. In fact, he's a stellar student. Has all his credits in math and science by the age of thirteen, then spends the next year rounding up the other credits he needs to graduate. Steve's heard of him, of course, but he figures Sam knows better than to put the vulnerable boy into Steve's path.

He's wrong.

"Tony Stark. In my Drawing 1. Can't you put him in one of Clint's classes?"

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Clint teaches Fitness for Life and Archery. Stark needs a Fine Arts credit."

"Then what about Natasha?" Steve's pretty sure Nat knows all his dark secrets, but until she outs him, he's not above pushing in this area. Not when Stark's still—

"Dance conflicts with his college courses. Not that his old man would go for it anyway. Come on, Rogers. I need this kid out of my hair, and you need enough students to justify keeping your Drawing class."

"You know I couldn't care less if they dissolve it into one of Rumlow's classes."

Sam rolls his eyes. "That's a lie and we both know it."

It's true. Steve isn't about to let his most vulnerable students into that Nazi's class as long as he can help it. Rumlow, and Sitwell in the business department, and Pierce in social studies; they can all get fucked as far as Steve's concerned.

Steve sighs. "Alright, then. If you're sure."

Sam smiles. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate it."

Steve gives him a tight smile and nods. Sam may appreciate it now, but he's not sure how long that will last.

Best to make the most of it while he can.

* * *

Steve's actually able to ignore the boy for the first six or seven class periods. Tony's relatively innocuous, hanging out in the back of the room and sketching his diagrams and plans. Steve passes his desk infrequently enough that Tony probably thinks he's nothing special in Steve's eye, and for those first few classes, he isn't.

But then he's two assignments behind and Steve wouldn't be Steve if he didn't keep the boy after class for a few minutes that Tuesday to hold him accountable. He has his prep next period anyway, so it isn't even like there are any students coming by afterward.

"Now, Mr. Stark—"

"Tony."

Steve looks up at Tony and raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Tony answers with a sleazy smile. "My dad's Mr. Stark. Call me Tony."

The casual challenge to Steve's authority goes straight to his dick, but he doesn't let it show. He simply lifts an eyebrow and doesn't let Tony lead the conversation. "You mind telling me why you haven't done a single assignment for me yet this year?"

Tony shrugs. "Didn't figure it would be a big deal. You're gonna pass me anyway."

"Am I?"

"'Course you are. You know who my dad is."

Those words are enough to make Steve want to shove the boy to his knees right then and there. "I certainly do know who your father is. That has nothing to do with the grade you're going to receive in my class."

Tony hesitates, as though he genuinely hadn't thought this would be a problem. "It's just a Fine Arts credit. It's not like I'm going to—"

"Need it?" Steve smiles, a small, predatory thing that has Tony's eyes going wide. "Everyone needs to understand the arts, Mr. Stark." He raps his knuckles on the desk between them. "I'll see you in here after school."

"What for?"

"To make up your assignments. If I can't trust you to do them at home, you'll do them here, where I can keep an eye on you."

Tony swallows, looking breathless. "Yessir."

"That's a good boy. Now, go on. You have class to get to."

Steve waits until Tony's gone and the halls are clear to make his way to the faculty restroom. He waits long enough to be certain that no one will hear him before he puts his hand on his cock. He gets off faster than he has in ages, the sight of Tony's stunned eyes enough to do him in. Breaking the boy is going to be the most fun he's had in years.

* * *

To no surprise of Steve's, Tony actually doesn't show up at the end of the day. That's fine. Sam had mentioned Tony's college classes, and it would have been easy enough for the boy to head straight back to the dorms after his studies.

That's fine. Just means there's even more reason for Steve to do his research and make his convictions clear. Steve doesn't see Tony the next day, but the day after that Tony makes his way into class with a smug look on his face. Steve smiles placidly back at him just to see the way that Tony hesitates. The uncertainty in Tony's expression is enough to get Steve's cock interested in the proceedings.

He gets his libido back in check, though, and starts class. As usual, Tony keeps to the back of the room, and Steve lets him get away with it, right up until the bell rings. Steve waits until most of the class has left before he speaks.

"Oh, Mr. Stark."

Tony stops short beside his desk, idle curiosity in his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Go ahead and head back to your seat. I spoke with Dr. Banner, and he agreed that getting your Fine Arts credit taken care of takes precedence over another science credit right now. You're welcome to stay in here for the rest of the day to get caught up."

"What? But Mr. Rogers—"

"No buts, Tony." Steve grins when Tony seems to realize the way Steve's turned the tables on him. "Back at your desk. And you'll be in here until you have both of your projects completed, mark my words."

Tony stays through fourth period, sketching furiously in the back of the room. He doesn't finish before the end of the day, but Steve relents when the boy promises to come by after classes tomorrow to finish up. But predictably, he doesn't show the next day.

Steve doesn't mind. All the more of an excuse to keep the boy late into the night after their next class.

Steve keeps Tony after class again on Monday. This time, though, when the bell rings at the end of the day, Steve stops Tony from packing up.

"Let's see what you've gotten done."

Tony tries to argue, but Steve doesn't let him get a word in edgewise. He makes his way to the back of the room and leans over Tony. He rests a hand on Tony's shoulder, both to hold him in place and to test the waters. Tony tenses underneath him, but doesn't pull away. Perfect.

"Well, that's hardly in the spirit of the assignment, now, is it?"

"I'm meeting all the criteria, aren't I?"

Steve rubs his thumb over Tony's back. He has to fight to keep the smirk out of his features when he leans in and Tony sinks into his touch. "To the letter," Steve concedes. "But there's no heart in it. No soul. No _passion_."

Tony shivers. "Passion, sir?"

"That's what art is, my boy. It's the passion of the artist laid bare on the page for the whole world to see." Steve lets the words hang in the air for a moment, lets them caress Tony's skin in the same way his fingers do. Then he pulls back quickly enough to give Tony whiplash. "But you are meeting all the essential criteria. If your goal is to pass, you're doing just fine."

Steve makes it three steps from Tony's desk before the boy speaks again. "And if— if I want to ace the class?"

Steve smiles at Tony over his shoulder. There's a hint of heat in his smile, and that's all he needs Tony to see right now. "Then I'll see you here after school every day this week, young man."

Tony's cheeks flush and Steve knows he has him in his grip even before he speaks. "Yessir. I'll— I'll see you tomorrow."

Steve nods. "Very good. Run along, then. You'll need your rest if we're going to work on this all week."

* * *

Tony sticks to the back of the room for the first two days, but by Friday Steve has coaxed Tony up to the table right in front of his desk. Tony's work alternates between broad, sweeping, confident strokes, and hesitant chicken scratches in the corners.

On Wednesday afternoon, Steve sits beside Tony and guides his hand over the page, fingers firm and present on Tony's skin. That night, he fucks his fist and pretends it's Tony's. On Thursday afternoon, Tony moves closer to his desk, and Steve makes a point of walking past every twenty minutes or so, praising Tony's work as he does. Thursday night, Steve had come to visions of fucking Tony's thighs. And on Friday, Steve lets his fingers linger in the crook of Tony's elbow as he watches the boy work; lets his palm rest against the small of Tony's back as he stands to leave. Tony looks up at him, lips parted on words he doesn't say, and that night Steve comes harder than he has in years, imagining fucking the boy's mouth.

It's time to move up the process.

By the following Thursday, Steve makes a place for Tony at his desk while he grades assignments in the afternoons. Tony hems and haws, but Steve sees the want in his eyes. Steve lets his hands linger and guide, press and hold, until Tony leans into every touch Steve gives him. Tony turns out two brilliant assignments to make up the two that he'd missed, and Steve praises him until Tony's blushing so pretty. And then he delivers the final blow.

"I think you're ready to get back to working on your own, don't you?"

Tony's eyes go wide, and though he seems to be on the verge of arguing, he doesn't. He just nods, packs up his things, and goes on his way.

Steve isn't at all surprised when Tony flunks the next assignment.

Steve stops him before he leaves the next day, one hand in the boy's elbow. "Come see me after school, Tony."

"What, you're not going to keep me through Biology again?"

"Believe me, the thought crossed my mind." Steve smirks at Tony then, just to see the way his pupils dilate. "But I think we both know that you know better than to avoid me by now."

Tony trembles and leans into Steve's touch. "Sir—"

Steve releases him. "Now, run along. I'll see you at 2:40." He smacks Tony's ass on his way out, a threat and a promise in the touch. Tony's eyes go wide and his lips part in a way that almost has Steve giving in and taking the boy right then and there. But it'll be so much better if Tony's the one that chooses this. Better for him, and better for their future. Better for Tony to think he'd chosen this, than to know that Steve had chosen for him. Better to give the boy no choice. 

Tony arrives at 2:47, and Steve knows that was intentional too. He eyes Tony perfunctorily when he comes into the classroom. Steve gestures to the seat next to his desk, but it seems Tony already knows how to play this game. He tips his chin up and marches over to his seat at the back of the classroom. Steve's cock gets halfway to hard before he can calm himself down.

"You'll have that piece done for me by 4:30, understand?"

Tony rolls his eyes, but even from here Steve can see the way he's trembling. "Sir, yes sir."

Steve nods, then pretends to be fully engrossed in his grading for the next two hours. When 4:30 rolls around, Steve waits another seventeen minutes, just to make Tony squirm. Then, at 4:47, two hours to the minute after Tony had walked in, Steve gets to his feet and makes his way back to Tony's desk. Predictably, the boy has done exactly nothing in the intervening two hours.

With a sigh, Steve perches on the corner of the table. "Really? This is what you're choosing to do?"

Tony crosses his arms and looks away. It's exactly the opening Steve needs.

"Come on now, Tony. You can't just act out when you want attention. You need to learn how to ask." He leans in closer, whispering the next words directly into Tony's ear. "Is that what you need? Attention?"

"Sir—"

"Some discipline from a strong hand?" Steve caresses Tony's shoulder, runs a hand down Tony's shoulder. Gets to his feet and continues down the line of his spine. "Yes, I think that's exactly what you need." He settles a hand over Tony's ass. Then he steps away, walking over to the door. The sound of the lock engaging is as loud as a gunshot in the silent room. "Hands on my desk. Pants down, feet spread. You're getting what you asked for, whether you like it or not."

Steve waits there, back to Tony, until he hears the boy scramble to his feet. He hears Tony shuck his pants off and plant his palms on Steve's desk. It's exactly what he wanted. Steve schools his expression and turns to face Tony.

"That'll have to do," he says after appraising Tony's stance. He undoes his belt, and fights down a smirk at the way Tony's breath hitches. He folds the belt over, fingers lingering on the leather. "Twenty strokes, I think, just to get us started." He smacks the leather against Tony's ass. "Count."

"One."

"One, _sir_ ," Steve corrects.

"One, sir."

"Very good." Steve spanks him again.

"Two, sir."

"You know why we're here, don't you, my boy?"

"Three, sir. Yes, sir."

"Then tell me why."

"Because— four, sir. Because I didn't listen to your instructions."

"And?"

"Five, sir. And because I— six, sir. Because I didn't do my homework. I didn't pay attention in class, and I— seven, sir. Because I didn't come after school or follow through on my promises, and I— eight, sir. I didn't— didn't do what I was told."

Steve hums. He steps closer to Tony, running his hand over the boy's ass. "Do you understand why I'm doing this, Tony?"

"Because I wasn't— I wasn't doing what I was supposed to."

"No, Tony. Every young man I've ever taught has made a mistake at some point or another. The difference is that the others learned. You, Tony? You never seem to learn." Steve traces his fingers over a particularly bright welt on Tony's ass, smirking at the way the boy hisses, but doesn't pull away. "That's what I'm here to help you with, Tony. I'm here to help you learn. Do you understand?"

"Yessir."

"Say it."

"You're here to help me learn."

"And how am I helping you learn?"

"By beating me silly. Nine, sir."

Steve brushes his fingers over the spot where the buckle had cut into Tony's ass on the last hit. Tony hisses again, but instead of pulling away, he leans into Steve's touch. "Incorrect. I'm teaching you by showing your body to find pleasure in doing what it's told."

"My father's done this for years," Tony sneers. "You think you can do any better? Ten, sir."

"I do," Steve says mildly. "I think I have a conviction that your father never will."

"Sir?"

Steve spanks him again to the sound of a breathless "Eleven, sir. Twelve, sir."

"I do, Tony. I think I know exactly what your body is missing. Count."

"Thirteen, sir," Tony says a moment too late. There's a damp sort of thickness in his voice, and it leaves Steve smirking. "Fourteen."

"Fourteen, _sir_ ," Steve admonishes.

"Fourteen, sir." And then, sounding even more choked off than before, "Fifteen, sir. Please, sir, I— I'm sorry, sir."

Steve runs the leather along Tony's ass, a feather-light touch that has Tony choking on his tears, then smacks him hard.

"Six— sixteen, sir."

"And what is it that you think you're sorry for?"

"For not listening to you. For not being respectful. For— for— seventeen, sir."

"No, Tony. You're sorry for disobeying me. Say it."

"I'm sorry for— for disobeying you." Smack. "Eighteen."

"Sir."

"Eighteen, sir. Nineteen, sir." Then, catching on, "I'm sorry for disobeying you, sir."

"And it won't happen again."

"It won't happen again. Sir," Tony adds, a breath too late. His hips jerk when Steve spanks him for the last time today. "Twenty, sir."

Steve nods. "That will do for today." Tony bends down to reach for the slacks of his uniform, but Steve stops him with a hand on his hip. "No need for that just yet. Let's get those welts treated before they get too bad."

"Sir?"

"Stay where you are, Tony. Don't move."

"But sir—"

Steve smacks his ass with the belt one more time, and Tony yelps. "What did we just apologize for, Anthony?"

"For— for disobeying you, sir."

"And?"

"And it won't happen again."

"So, let's try this again. Stay where you are, Tony. Don't move."

Tony hesitates. "Yessir."

"Good boy." Tony's spine goes lax at the praise. Steve grins. "Such a good boy when you want to be, aren't you, Tony?"

"Yessir."

"And you're always going to be a good boy for me now, correct?"

"Yessir."

"Good." Steve walks to the other side of his desk and pulls out a bottle of bruise cream to soothe the welts. "Now, this is going to sting a little bit, but it will keep the welts from being too bad tomorrow. Stay still, and let me do this for you."

"Sir?"

Steve can hear the pleading in Tony's voice. For all that he'd intended to wait longer, he can't resist the hope there. He leans in and kisses Tony's lips. "Gonna take such good care of you, baby boy. Gonna teach you everything you need to know."

Then he slathers the cream onto Tony's ass just to feel him gasp and arch against the touch.

"There you go, baby," Steve murmurs. He moves to stand behind Tony, holding his hips firmly in place with one hand and smoothing the cream over his ass with the other. "Just let me take care of you." Steve massages the cream into Tony's skin with perhaps a bit more sensuality than necessary, but that's all he needs. In moments, Tony's biting back moans as he arches into Steve's hands. Steve lets himself get a little bit bolder the more Tony sinks into his touch. He rubs the cream along the crease of his ass, teasing at his hole. And then again at the inside of Tony's thighs, where the belt had only partially reached.

When his thighs are well lubricated, Steve surreptitiously unzips his pants. Tony twitches, as though he'd heard the sound, but then he melts against the desk, as though he knows what's coming. "Tony? Baby?"

"Feels good," Tony slurs.

Steve grins. If there was a hint of sedative in the cream, well, that was no one's business but his own. "Yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

Steve pulls his cock out of his boxers and through the slit in pants, before he gently eases Tony's thighs together. He thumbs at the boy's hole, want curling in his belly, but it isn't time yet. Better to make the boy worship the ground he walks on first.

"Mr. Rogers?"

Steve smooths a hand along Tony's spine, soothing him gently. "Just taking what I need, baby boy. What I get to have after giving you what you need. That's how this works, isn't it? I give you what you need, and you give me what I need." Tony nods. "There's a good boy. Now, go ahead and squeeze those thighs together for me."

Tony does, and as Steve slides between them, he can't hold back a groan. Tony goes still as Steve's fully-hard cock nestles between his thighs. "Mr. Rogers? Sir? What's— is that your— why is it—?"

Steve smacks his ass again. "No words, Tony. Not 'til I'm done with you. You will speak when spoken to, and not a moment sooner."

Tony jerks, and turns to look at Steve over his shoulder. Steve can see the way his pupils blow wide. It's exactly the reaction he's looking for.

He spanks Tony a few more times with his open palm before he starts talking to him too. "This is what you need, isn't it, my boy? A strong hand to keep you in line. Someone to tell you how to behave. Hmm? Isn't that what you need? Tell me."

"Yes!" Tony gasps as Steve's hand comes down on his ass again and his cock rocks through the vise grip of his thighs. "Yes, Mr. Rogers, sir, I— I need you to— oh— _oh_ — to keep me in line."

"Yes, you do. You need a man to show you how to _be_ a man, don't you?" Steve smacks him again; the outside of his right thigh, this time. "Not that idiot father of yours. A real man."

Tony whines and keens, squirming in Steve's grip, which is exactly the kind of stimulation Steve was looking for. He groans, hands tight on Tony's hips as he fucks his thighs. He spanks the outside of Tony's thighs as he fucks between them, and Tony just moans and squirms on his dick.

"Yeah, baby. Gotta make me feel good, don't you? Gotta earn your spot, don't you?"

"Yessir, please sir, please, I— I want to be good for you."

Steve groans, rolling his hips to fuck his dick through Tony's thighs. "Yeah you do. You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you? Such a slut for my dick."

Tony sobs loud enough that Steve's almost tempted to shove his fingers in the boy's mouth. But better to silence him with his dick first, so that he knows what to expect. So he lets Tony cry, sob out the intensity of the stimulation, until he's limp in Steve's arms, and then he smacks his rubbed-raw ass again.

"You're not done yet, slut. Come on. You gotta make it good for me."

"Please, Mr. Rogers. I— it's too much."

"Yeah?" Steve reaches around and wraps his hand around Tony's dick. Tony cries out again, arching against him. "What about now?"

Tony sobs. "Sir— please sir, I— I—"

Steve smirks and runs his nose along the line of Tony's throat. "Surely you've had an orgasm by now, haven't you, baby?"

"What?" Tony sounds breathless. Steve fucks harder into his thighs, keeping them tight around him with the leverage from his knees. "An orgasm?"

Oh. _Oh._

Steve grins against Tony's neck. "Oh, baby. I'm gonna make you feel so good." He adjusts the angle of his hips and Tony's cock, and then he's using the leverage of his hips fucking Tony's thighs to fuck Tony's cock through his fist. Tony gasps, shoving back against Steve from the overstimulation, but Steve doesn't let up. "You gotta trust me, baby," he murmurs. "Trust me. You're gonna feel so good."

Tony keeps pushing back against Steve, as though trying to get away from his hand. Steve knows better, though. He knows Tony just doesn't know what he's in for.

"Don't be scared, baby." Steve kisses Tony's temple, nips at his earlobe. "You gotta trust me."

"But, sir—"

Steve gives a particularly violent thrust of his cock through Tony's thighs. "Trust me. You promised to obey me, so do it now. Obey me and trust."

Tony goes limp. "Yessir."

With a few more short thrusts and a careful twist of his wrist, they're both coming in moments. Tony jerks against him, a soft cry falling from his lips, and Steve biting down hard on the junction of Tony's neck and shoulder to quiet the roar in his lungs. Steve fucks through his thighs a few more times, coating them with his come, and reveling in every moment of it. He pulls back, one hand smearing his come to mix with the cream on Tony's thighs and over his ass. He paints such a pretty picture. In fact—

Steve slips his phone out of his pocket, angling it to get a few good snaps of Tony's ass. He rests his cock in the crease of his ass, showing how thick he is against Tony's skinny hips. Showing how deep he'll be fucking Tony when the boy is properly trained and ready. Then he looks up in time to see Tony glancing back at him with a hazy, half-present gaze. That's going to be enough fuel in Steve's spank bank for a few days, so he takes another dozen pictures of Tony, sprawled out and completely at his mercy on his desk. He hikes one of Tony's thighs up onto the desk to spread his hole wide open and takes another few pictures. Fuck, but the boy's pretty.

As Tony starts to come around, Steve grabs him by the scruff of his neck and shoves him to his knees so that he's level with the spot where his own cock had been rubbing up against Steve's desk. The spot that's now covered in both of their come.

"Well now," Steve says genially. "Looks like we made a bit of a mess. Might as well clean it up while you're down there."

Tony looks up at him dazedly. "Sir?"

"With your tongue, boy," Steve says with mock patience to hide his glee. "Go on, then. Put that mouth to good use."

Tony blinks languidly before turning back to the desk. He plants his hands on either side of the mess and starts working his tongue slowly over the varnished wood. Steve resists the urge to take more pictures and then wonders why he's resisting. The boy looks positively high off the endorphins of his first orgasm (his first orgasm!) and the taste of come on his tongue, and that's a sight Steve may never get to have again. So he pulls his phone off his desk and takes a few more shots.

When the desk is clean, Tony looks up at him with glassy eyes, clearly expecting his next instruction. Steve obliges. "Go on and get up now. And pull your pants up." Tony whimpers as the slacks come up to cover his ass and thighs, covered as they are with welts and come respectively. "Now, now, no complaining. Not when I gave you exactly what you needed."

Tony leans into him, nonverbal from the events of the afternoon. The boy is so perfect, so exactly what Steve wants, that he could kiss him. So he does. Tony parts his lips, so easy and pliant in Steve's grip.

"There's my good boy," he whispers against Tony's lips. "You ready to head back to the dorms?"

"Y'sir."

Steve grins. "You need some help getting there?"

"Y'sir."

"Alright, then." Steve lets Tony lean on him as he makes quick work of his desk, shoving all the mismatched papers into drawers and grabbing his shoulder bag. "Let's get you home."

Steve walks Tony all the way to his dorm. He doesn't kiss the boy at his door—thanks cameras in the halls—but he does squeeze his ass once, a promise in the touch.

"I'll be thinking of you tonight."

"Yessir. Thank you, sir."

Steve grins. "Go on, then. Get some rest. There's plenty more where that came from for you tomorrow."

"Sir?"

"Oh yes, Tony. Plenty more."


End file.
